


all that I am (I owe to my mother)

by agentmmayy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post Season 5, just a little, mama may
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmmayy/pseuds/agentmmayy
Summary: After returning from the future, saving the earth, and retiring, Melinda May gets a call asking her to babysit.





	all that I am (I owe to my mother)

**Author's Note:**

> huge HUGE thank you to the best beta ever alina for beta-ing this so quickly and helping me think through the plot and events when I first shared this idea!! also, big thank you to my bae Janelle who encouraged me as I wrote the rest of this fic and always cheered me on <3 hope you enjoy!

The car rolls to a stop, gravel of the driveway crunching beneath the heavy tires. 

Melinda cuts the engine and goes to open the door, but stops as she stares at the front of the house. She has a sudden urge to start the SUV again and drive back home, away from the place and more importantly, her fears. But Melinda ignores it and instead hops out of the vehicle, bringing her duffle bag with her. It’s full of five days worth of clothing, but even though the contents are light, the gun at the bottom of the bag weighs it down much more than just physically. Even though she most likely won’t need it, Melinda couldn’t help but bring it.

She exits the car and walks up the front walkway, noticing the various painted rocks lining the sidewalk. Aside from those touches, the front of the house is devoid of any personal items. There is a wreath on the front door, though, partially covering up the frosted glass panes. Though it may be pointless to knock because of the camera Melinda spots, she does so anyway. 

Less than a second later, the unobscured glass is shrouded by a face. It’s hard to discern their expression, but there’s no need to as the door clicks open. 

“Agent May,” Polly greets with a smile as she opens the door up further. “Hello. Please come in.”

Melinda steps inside, feeling the warmth of the house chase away the remnants of cool spring air around her. Without being prompted, she removes her shoes and places them next to the front door amongst the others. 

Before Melinda can return the woman’s greeting, Polly is speaking once more, 

“Once again, I apologize for the short notice,” she says. “But this trip is very last minute, and I don’t trust anyone else to watch her for me.” 

“It’s alright,” Melinda assures her just like she did over the phone a few hours prior. 

Even if she was technically retired, Melinda picked up her phone on the first ring when she saw it was Polly’s contact. Immediately, she was worried, thinking of what could have happened to Polly or Robin, but was relieved when all Polly called for was a babysitter. Melinda’s relief was short-lived, though as Polly’s request set in once she disconnected the call after making the appropriate arrangements. 

How could she take care of a kid for five whole days?

But, through her doubts, Melinda packed a bag and drove the two hours to Polly and Robin’s new home. 

Melinda can’t help but glance around. The inside of the house is just as she expected: clean, but with clear signs that a child lived there such as crayons strewn on the coffee table and a few toys lying discarded on the floor. “Lovely home.”

“Thank you,” Polly replies. “SHIELD was very generous.”

After the events in Chicago, what was left of SHIELD relocated Polly and Robin to a small town where they could be reached by quinjet in less than half an hour. 

“It’s the least we could do for what you both went through.” 

“We appreciate it, truly.” 

At Polly’s mention of ‘we,’ Melinda’s eyes shift to the figure standing a few feet back, watching them as she peeks around the wall. 

Polly turns, following Melinda’s gaze. “Robin. Why don’t you come say hi?”

Almost shyly, Robin creeps around the wall into full view. She’s grown since Melinda last saw her, nearly a year older than when they were in Chicago. Robin’s hair is longer, and she’s a bit taller, but still has the same, unreadable expression on her face as Melinda remembers. But Robin seems lighter as if a burden has been lifted off her small shoulders. 

“Hi, Robin,” Melinda greets softly as the child nears. “It’s good to see you again.” 

Robin studies her as if she’s trying to remember who exactly Melinda is. Melinda knows how confused the six-year-old must be having two different realities in her mind, and forces a smile onto her lips no matter how much Robin’s struggle hurts her. 

But then Robin’s eyes light up as if a switch was flipped. 

Her lips form a silent word that Melinda dares to think resembles  _ mom _ . Stepping forward, the child stretches out a hand to Melinda who reaches out and presses her palm against Robin’s smaller one. Robin studies their hands for a moment before pulling back. 

The sting that goes through Melinda’s heart when Robin doesn’t reach out for a hug is unexpected and confusing, but she pushes it aside. 

As if sensing it, Polly turns to Robin, asking, "Why don't you go get what you have to show her?" 

Robin turns, disappearing down the hallway. Melinda listens to her soft footfalls and the opening of a door before turning to Polly.

"She seems happier.”

"She is," Polly nods, glancing back at Melinda as she walks into the living area and takes a seat. "The fresh air here has really done her good. Living in the city, always surrounded by people was too stressful for her I think."

Melinda sits down in an armchair across from Polly. "Does she still get visions?"

"She does," Polly says. "But they aren't as frequent or violent as before though some still are."

"That's good."

Polly smiles. "It is." She takes a breath in before letting it out slowly. Her body is stiff. "So, how have you all been? Is- Jemma?"

"She's still searching." Sometime after the dust settled in Chicago, Melinda informed a guilt-stricken Polly about the other Fitz. A team had gone out not long after, setting out on a six-month-long search in space. They hadn’t found Fitz yet, but still weren’t giving up hope. They couldn't. “They just got back a few days ago, but will be leaving again soon.”

"Good." Polly nods, obviously relieved. "That's good. And Daisy?"

"She's Assistant Director." Melinda can't help the pride she feels. "She's great."

There is only sincerity in Polly’s voice as she says, "She makes a great leader. How is Coulson?"

Just hearing his name has Melinda's heart fluttering.

After saving the world and being so sure that their time on the beach together was going to be their last, Phil somehow didn’t die. Strangely enough, he got better during their stay on the island and was back to breathing without extra oxygen and up on his feet in the span of a week. 

Melinda couldn’t explain it, Jemma couldn’t explain it, not even Phil himself could explain how the once dead tissue in his chest was regenerating on its own. They theorized it was because of the break in the loop, but no one knew for sure. To be frank, Melinda doesn’t want to find out the real truth in fear of losing Phil again. She’s content living in retirement with the love of her life.

"He's well," she says. "He's at the base, now, didn't want to stay home alone."

Just then, Robin appears from the hallway, going over to Melinda with an eager quirk on her lips. In her hands is a clay model of the earth, intact and painted bright blue and green.

Melinda carefully takes it as Robin offers it to her. The sphere is heavy in her hands. "It's beautiful," she says. "You made it?"

Robin nods but doesn't say anything more.

"They have art classes for kids Sunday mornings in town," Polly informs Melinda. "She made that two weeks ago when they were using clay."

It’s the first image of an intact earth Melinda has seen since coming back from the future, where all that was left of earth was a shattered crust and jagged rocks. It’s incredibly reassuring, knowing that not only is the world saved but it’s saved because of Melinda and her team and most importantly, Robin. 

"You did an excellent job," Melinda tells Robin who smiles shyly before glancing to Polly.

"You have to go soon."

Polly's eyes dart to the clock on the mantle. She stands up abruptly. "You're right."

Melinda hands the clay earth back to Robin who disappears down the hallway again. Standing up, Melinda follows Polly into the kitchen where the woman is writing on a pad of paper attached to the refrigerator door.

"I'm just jotting down a reminder about the trash," Polly says. "Trash is Tuesday, recycle is Wednesday."

"Does Robin have a schedule?"

"Yes." Polly takes out a large notebook from the kitchen drawer, handing it to Melinda. "She's an early riser unless she's been up drawing all night. She usually wakes up around seven. We have breakfast at seven thirty."

The first page of the planner, Melinda realizes, is blocked out with Robin's schedule, detailing her mealtimes, activities, bath, and bedtime. It's even color-coded, and suddenly, Melinda feels overwhelmed.

"I have a menu of what we usually eat in there too," Polly continues, oblivious. "So far, she doesn't have any food allergies, but I tend to stay away from fish. And of course, she can tell you what she wants to eat." 

As if summoned, soft, almost imperceivable footfalls enter the kitchen before there are little arms wrapping around Melinda’s hips. Robin pushes her face into Melinda’s side, nuzzling the fabric of Melinda’s shirt before peering up at her. 

Melinda smiles and sets the planner down to brush a hand over Robin’s forehead, smoothing the girl’s bangs out of her eyes. The sudden show of affection from the child is strange but very welcome. 

“Bedtime is at eight thirty, and I try to have her in bed at that time or earlier because she tends to wake up during the night,” Polly says. “It's only for a few minutes at a time unless she's had a nightmare or a particularly intense vision, but she settles down quickly. She's already had a bath for tonight, so she won't need one until tomorrow evening."

Melinda nods, mind focusing on processing the information. It’s a lot, and it must show on her face.

"I'm sorry I'm rambling," Polly chuckles before sobering. "It's just- I haven't left her with anyone since Charles-"

"I understand," Melinda says. The subject of Charles is still tender, as Polly swallows thickly. "She'll be fine."

Without a doubt, Polly replies, "I know."

A moment passes before Robin’s voice fills the kitchen. Her tone is longsuffering and borderline impatient. “ _ Mom _ .”

Melinda isn’t prepared for the start her heart gives at the name and glances down at Robin, but the child is looking at Polly. 

Polly jumps, blinking. “Right, right. I have to get going. Um-” She takes a breath before continuing, but quicker this time. 

"I have some chili in the pot and bread in the oven for tonight," Polly tells Melinda, gesturing to the kitchen counter. "There are other toppings in the fridge. Robin likes sour cream on hers and jalapenos. Don't worry; they're not too hot for her. There are also cheese and oyster crackers if you like those. I wasn't sure."

"Thank you for doing that." Melinda lets the sincerity she feels bleed into her tone. 

One of the many worries she had coming into this situation was what exactly she was going to feed Robin and how she was going to do it. Cooking is definitely not Melinda’s strong suit, and she is aware of it. 

"Oh of course," Polly replies. "It's the least I can do for you coming out on such short notice."

Melinda smiles, glancing down at Robin whose hand is placed in hers. "It's no problem."

"Well," Polly takes in another breath. The smile she has is nervous. "I better get going, don't want to miss my flight."

Crouching down to Robin, Polly rests her hands on her daughter's shoulders. She smiles. Her hands smooth out invisible wrinkles in Robin’s shirt. "I'll be back soon, okay? Agent May will take care of you."

"I know."

Polly chuckles. "Of course you do."

She looks at Robin for a moment before hugging her tightly. Robin hugs her just as tight, face buried in her mother's shoulder. Polly pulls back, kissing Robin's hair. She smoothes it, whispering, "I love you."

"I love you too."

In just a few minutes, Polly has her bags collected and is out the door with Melinda and Robin following her out to the garage. 

"Remember to call me if you need anything or have any questions," Polly instructs as she places her bags inside of the car. "I know you'll be fine."

Melinda nods. "We will be. Have a safe trip."

Polly just smiles knowingly. "I will."

She gives Robin another hug and a kiss before getting into the car. With one last wave and the garage door opening, Polly drives away. 

At her car disappears out of sight, Melinda suddenly feels less confident than she did when Polly was there. At least then Melinda had a vague idea of how to care for Robin, but now all she has to go off of is a few extremely detailed notes and schedules. Of course, Polly is only a phone call away, but Melinda can handle it herself. She can. 

"She'll be back," Melinda reassures Robin, gently rubbing her shoulder.

Robin nods, her eyes still glued to the empty driveway. Once again, the child’s face is unreadable, and Melinda grapples at any idea of what to do. 

"You hungry?"

Robin nods again, but this time turns away from looking down the driveway and slips her hand into Melinda's as they walk back in the house, the sound of the garage door closing behind them. 

Thankfully, the chili Polly prepared for them doesn't need more attention than watching the timer on the slow cooker and dishing it out when the timer beeps. The bread is the same, and soon, Melinda is placing two bowls of chili onto the dining table with a basket of garlic bread. Robin gets the toppings from the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to set the small bowls onto the table as well. 

Soon, they’re both eating, but in silence. 

Melinda hasn’t had a silent meal since she last visited her mother after returning to earth. It’s unnerving, but the food is delicious, so Melinda focuses on that and on watching Robin as closely as she can do without being obvious about it. 

Kids choked on food a lot, or at least that’s what the news seemed to continuously report. As they eat, Melinda mentally reviews the steps of the Heimlich maneuver before a question shatters her twentieth rendition of it. 

"How was the beach?"

“It was very nice,” Melinda finally answers after a second of shocked silence. 

Of course, Robin knew about her time on the beach with Phil. The child had both seen and drew it. Melinda only hopes that Robin didn’t see  _ everything  _ about the trip. 

Robin looks pleased with her answer and goes back to eating with no further questions. 

Melinda, on the other hand, doesn’t resume eating and instead pushes her chili around in the bowl, listening to her spoon softly scrape the bottom. 

“How have you and your mom been?”

“Good.” Robin shrugs. “She’s really scared all the time, though.”

That’s understandable. Polly and Robin both went through much more than the average civilian should have. With Robin’s gift, Melinda is sure Polly would be frightened for the well being of her child. 

“She knows that I’m only a call away, right?”

“Yeah,” Robin says, glancing to Melinda. “But she’s still scared.”

After that, Melinda lets the subject drop and they both go back to eating. 

"You always made sure I ate first," Robin says out of the blue. When Melinda looks at her, the child is picking at the crust of a slice of garlic bread, nibbling on crumbs that stick to her fingers. 

Melinda swallows the food she has in her mouth. "In the Lighthouse?"

Robin nods. "Even if it wasn't enough for both of us."

"I would still do so now," Melinda says simply. "Would you like some more garlic bread?"

Dinner passes, and soon, Melinda is cleaning up with Robin's help. 

Between the two of them, they didn’t use that many dishes so cleaning up goes by quickly. Melinda rinses the dishes off before handing them one by one to Robin who places them inside of the dishwasher. It's so domestic that Melinda’s heart aches for a life she could never have. 

When Melinda is closing the dishwasher and setting it, Robin announces, "I need to go get ready for bed."

With a glance to the clock on the stove, Melinda sees that it’s almost eight o’clock. 

"Why don't you do that and I'll be up in a little?" Melinda asks. Even though the dishes are put up, there are a few other things in the kitchen Melinda needs to tend to, specifically, looking over Robin’s schedule again. 

The only confirmation she receives is a nod before Robin is running down the hallway to her room, Melinda guesses. 

After about fifteen minutes, Melinda takes her attention away from the planner before her at the realization of another presence in the room. Melinda glances up at a movement. It’s only Robin hanging around the corner, clad in a set of long sleeved pajamas that make her look even smaller. 

She puts the planner back into a drawer in the kitchen island, asking, “You ready for bed?”

Robin nods, and as Melinda nears, she holds out her hand. Melinda takes it, but she’s the one to lead them first, and straight to her phone where she checks the home security system before allowing Robin to lead her down the hallway. 

When they pass by the hall bathroom, Melinda asks, “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yep,” Robin replies and tugs on Melinda’s hand. 

Robin leads her a little further down the hallway to a bedroom door that has no sign indicating it might be Robin’s bedroom, as most children have. But, when Robin opens the door, it definitely is her room. 

Drawings cover nearly every available inch of wall space that the room provides. 

Melinda recognizes a few of them, but most she does not. Even though she itches to look at them and perhaps get a glimpse into the future, she tears her eyes away from them and follows Robin as the child leads her around the bedroom. 

The rest of the room is typically furnish with a bed, a dresser, a shelf of books, and other items that one would find in a bedroom. There are more toys in here, propped up and displayed on shelves. 

Stopping in front of a particular drawing, Robin informs her, “This is my friend and me.”

Unlike most of Robin’s drawings that Melinda has seen, this one is cheery, almost happy. The stick figures are smiling as they hold hands in what looks like a park. 

“It’s beautiful.” The thought of Robin socializing outside of just being with her mother is comforting.  

Before she can pry or ask any questions about Robin’s friend, Robin points to the desk situated near the window. "The bad ones are in there."

It’s like a punch to the gut, the realization that even after all Robin had recently been through in her short life, she still has to see images that no six-year-old should. “I’m sorry you have to see them.”

Robin only shrugs and turns to climb into her bed. As she snuggles under her covers, she scoots over. One tiny hand peeks out from beneath the covers and pats available space on the bed. 

Melinda sits without question, somewhat awkwardly perching on the edge of the small bed. But, she turns and smiles down at Robin who blinks at her sleepily. “You comfortable?”

“Uh huh.” Robin wiggles under the covers contently. Rubbing her eyes, she mumbles, “Can you turn the light on?”

In an outlet by the door, Melinda spies a star-shaped night light. Getting up, she walks over to it and turns it on. The room is filled with warm pink light and star shapes that splash across the walls and drawings. The lamp by Robin’s bedside table is still on, illuminating the child’s face as she yawns. It also illuminates a familiar wooden bird sitting on the side table.

When Melinda sits down on the bed once more, Robin snuggles further into the comfort of her bed. The child’s eyes close in content when Melinda strokes a hand across her temple and down her back. 

“Alright,” Melinda whispers. “Goodnight.” 

But, when Melinda goes to stand and leave the bedroom, there is a gentle tug at her hand. 

"Stay.”

When she glances back, Robin is watching her almost expectantly. "You want me to stay?" Melinda asks.

"We always slept together," Robin whispers.

Sharing a bed isn’t anything new to Melinda. She has been sharing beds since joining SHIELD. There have been countless missions where she had to share a bed with Phil. Most times it wasn't even a bed and instead a sleeping bag or a rickety cot. She has shared a bed with others too, with Andrew of course, and even with Daisy on occasions. But, sleeping in a bed with a child that technically wasn't hers but was? 

Melinda is about to say no, that Polly had set up the guest room for her, but the pleading expression on Robin's face chips her resolve away.

"Scoot over then."

Smiling, Robin moves over, making room for Melinda to properly lie down in the small full bed. 

It's a tight fit. Melinda is almost to the edge of the bed, and her feet are hanging off the end, but then Robin shifts closer to her. Snuggling up to Melinda's chest, Robin tucks her head under Melinda's chin and gives a sigh that could be taken only as content.

For a moment, Melinda is frozen.

She hasn’t had a child this close to her since Bahrain.

The closest Melinda had come to this was to Daisy when the girl was feverish and slipping out of consciousness. She can't say she never dreamed of this. Back when she and Andrew were family planning, Melinda would often wonder what it would feel like to have her child fall asleep on her, cuddled close. Looking down at Robin peacefully sleeping, Melinda now knows.

It's strange. It's uncomfortable, but it's exactly where she needs to be.

                                                                                                                             …

In the planner Polly left Melinda, she suggested going to the library one day as a fun activity. The next day it’s cold, cloudy, and damp and consequentially, the perfect day to go to the library. 

Melinda brings it up over breakfast which is hot, instant oatmeal that Robin drowns in syrup. Melinda doesn’t show the surprise that she feels when Robin agrees to the library. Usually, Robin shies away from any possible social interactions, but this time, she seems excited at the prospect. 

The library is no more than half an hour away, located in the near middle of the city Polly and Robin live in. It’s a large one with a crowded parking lot and many people going in and out. Somehow, Melinda avoids any fender benders or running anyone over and finds a parking spot.

“Got the books?” Melinda asks when she stops the car, glancing to the backseat. Robin nods and lifts the bag of library books into her lap with a huff. 

Melinda takes it once they get out of the car, hefting the heavy bag over one shoulder before reaching for Robin’s hand. 

The calm quiet of the library is a nice change from the chaos that downtown brings, and Melinda sees how Robin’s shoulders relax once the doors are closed behind them. Upon entering the lobby of the library, Melinda hands Robin the books from the bag who slips them into the book return bin. 

Before they go into the kid’s area, Melinda stops and digs around in her purse before taking out a small bottle. “Here.”

She squeezes a cold dollop of hand sanitizer in Robin’s cupped palm before into her own hands, giving the area filled with books and screaming children a dubious look. Melinda knew how germy public libraries were, especially the kid’s section and she is prepared to take any measures to prevent Robin from getting sick. 

“Alright,” Melinda says once her hands are dry and she slips the bottle back into her purse. Glancing down at Robin, she asks, “Ready?”

Robin is focused on the chaos of the area, eyes darting around from one child to another. Her tiny chest heaves as she takes a breath. Melinda is about to turn around and say never mind to the whole idea, but then Robin nods. 

The children’s area is even louder once Melinda pushes open the door and they walk inside, but Melinda and Robin quickly find a corner where the noise doesn’t reach. 

Melinda winces as she sits down, the persistent throbbing in her leg coming back tenfold as she lowers herself into the only chair in the small area which happens to be a bean bag chair. Her injury has healed up quite well since she came back from the future, but still aches every day, especially with the cold weather where Robin and Polly live. 

“Why don’t you go pick out some books?” Melinda asks Robin as the girl stands next to her. 

She wants to go with Robin but needs to rest her leg for a moment. With a quick glance to the bookshelves, Melinda can see that Robin will still be in her sight. And of course, if anything happens, Melinda is more than ready to spring up at a moments notice. But for now, she shifts and tries to find a better position where there is the least amount of pressure on her thigh. 

Robin lingers near Melinda for a second more before walking off to the bookshelves. Her tiny, blonde head moves up and down as she crouches to peer down at the lower shelves and stands back up. 

Melinda keeps her eyes on Robin for a few moments before bringing her phone out. There are no missed calls, but there are a few text messages. Melinda opens the contact that sent her the most.

**Phil:** I miss you

**Phil:** Daisy is here, she misses you too

**Phil:** Also, she’s eating all our food

**Phil:** Is this what it feels like when your kid comes home from college?

A chuckle leaves Melinda’s lips before she can stop it. Just as she’s about to reply, Robin comes back, struggling to carry an armful of books. Melinda quickly slips her phone away and leans up, grabbing a few from the girl as she nears. 

The books are slippery, solid weights in Melinda’s hands and for a second, she struggles to hold them but regains her grip and sets some aside. “Let’s see what you found.”

Robin sets the rest of the books on the floor next to Melinda's chair as she sits down. The bean bag chair Melinda is sitting on is close to the ground, so Robin can watch closely as Melinda sifts through the books.

“Pete the Cat?” Melinda asks. It’s an unfamiliar children’s book, but then again, it’s been a long while since Melinda last read a children’s book. “Let’s read this one.”

Robin settles between Melinda's legs, leaning back against the woman’s chest as Melinda begins to read, holding the book out before Robin so the girl can see as she turns the pages.  

“Pete the Cat was walking down the street in his brand-new white shoes,” Melinda reads. “Pete loved his white shoes so much he-” Melinda falters for only a moment before continuing though this time, flatly. “-sang this song.”

“I love my white shoes,” Melinda reads blandly and as evenly as possible. “I love my white shoes. I love my white shoes.”

Against her, Robin giggles. “No, you have to sing it.”

Melinda takes in a breath and draws on the gratitude she feels that none of her teammates or family are there to witness. Lightly and quickly she sings, “I love my white shoes. I love my white shoes. I love my white shoes.” She pauses, glancing at Robin. “Satisfied?”

Robin giggles once more before nodding. 

Melinda continues reading. Unfortunately, there is more singing,  _ a lot _ more singing, as the story progresses, but Melinda ends up singing each song the book holds. Oddly enough, it becomes easier and even fun, especially with the way Robin giggles and laughs as Melinda pitches her voice differently. 

By the time they finish the last page, Robin has a broad smile on her face, one Melinda has only seen once or twice. To see that smile again, Melinda thinks, she would sing any and every song as many times as it took. 

Another book is pushed into her hands once she sets down the first one.

Melinda takes the book but raises an eyebrow. “Does it have any singing?”

Robin laughs and scoots closer to her. “No.”

“Alright,” Melinda says, shifting on the soft chair as she opens the book. 

They sit like that, reading books for a while. The whole time, Melinda can’t help but anticipate for Robin to have a vision, but the child never does.

Instead, Robin is in her lap, following as Melinda reads and laughing as the woman makes voices. It’s a small miracle. Melinda has a rough idea of how to handle one of Robin’s visions, and even though at one point she knows it’s inevitable, she doesn’t look forward to seeing Robin distressed and not being able to do anything to help. 

Melinda continues to read until nearly every muscle in her lower body feels like it’s cramping and she has to stand. When she does, it’s with a cacophony of popping noises that only serve to remind Melinda of how old she is. Robin looks slightly concerned, but hands over the books she’s holding when Melinda reaches for them. 

“How about we check these out?”

In a matter of minutes, the books are being scanned at the front desk where Melinda fumbles with the set of cards Polly left for her to find the library card. She finds it and gives it to the librarian when there’s a tug at the bottom hem of her jacket. 

It’s Robin of course, but instead of reaching to be picked up, the girl beckons Melinda down. 

She feels a bit absurd doing so, but Melinda leans down, asking gently, “Yes?”

“I want a sticker,” Robin whispers to her, pointing to the top of the counter where Melinda indeed spies a bowl of stickers. 

Standing up straight, Melinda holds out her hands. “Come here.”

She lifts Robin to the counter, holding the child as she quickly rummages through the stickers. The librarian pauses in scanning the books to offer them a smile and to push the stickers closer to Robin. Melinda’s arms begin to ache with the strain of holding Robin up. Lifting a kid up before you is  _ much  _ different than holding them in your arms, she finds out. 

After a few moments, Robin lifts up a sticker triumphantly. “Got one.” 

Melinda quickly sets Robin down, subtly shaking out her arms once the child’s feet are back on the floor. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly her muscled tired and now feel like the equivalent of jelly, but then again, Melinda admittedly has been slacking off on working out since retirement. 

“Alright,” the librarian announces once when Melinda is grabbing the bag of books. “There you go. Have a great day.”

They leave the library, Robin’s hand held tightly in Melinda’s as they walk through the parking lot. It rained some point during their visit, and Robin hops over the puddles, giggling as water splashes. When they reach the car, it’s begun to drizzle, micro splatters of water on the windshield. Melinda makes quick work of buckling Robin into her booster seat but pauses when Robin holds out something to her.  

“I got one for you too,” Robin says, lifting her other hand which holds a different sticker. 

Melinda takes the sticker, feeling the thin paper between her fingers. It’s strange how something so insignificant could make her feel such joy. 

“Thank you.”

Robin beams. 

It’s grown colder outside by the time they reach the house, so Melinda ushers Robin inside. 

The house is warm, but they warm up even further by eating leftover chili -which Melinda doesn’t burn- as well as leftover garlic bread. Of course, neither of them eat before vigorously washing their hands at the sink. 

After lunch is eaten and the kitchen is clean, Melinda asks,

“Would you like some hot chocolate?”

At this, Robin’s eyes light up. She follows Melinda around the kitchen, one hand gripping the hem of Melinda’s sweatshirt as the woman grabs two mugs from the cabinet. The hot chocolate comes from the instant packs Polly has in the pantry, and with only a cup of milk and a little time in the microwave, Melinda is placing two steaming cups onto the counter. 

It’s too hot to drink right then, so Robin parks herself in front of the counter, watching the steam billow up from the liquid. 

“It should be cooled by now,” Melinda says after a few minutes. She goes to pick up the mugs, but Robin’s hasty  _ wait! _ stops her. “What?”

Robin races over to the pantry, calling out, “We need marshmallows!” The child digs around in the pantry for a few moments before bringing a half-empty bag of mini marshmallows over to Melinda. 

“Alright,” Melinda begins as she opens the bag. “One for you and the rest for me?”

Robin giggles. “No! The same!” She pauses. “But give me more.”

“Give you more?” Melinda repeats as she begins to sprinkle marshmallows on the surface of the drinks. “I don’t think that’s what same means.” 

They both end up with a small mountain of marshmallows bobbing along the rim of the mugs. Robin eats most of them, even sneaking a few from Melinda as they sit at the counter and drink. It’s nothing like Phil’s special hot chocolate that he makes on occasion, but it’s still good. 

Robin turns to Melinda, smiling with a mustache of hot chocolate and marshmallow remains above her upper lip. 

Melinda lets out a soft chuckle and reaches for a napkin. “Come here.”

She manages to wipe away most of the chocolate mess before Robin can lick it off and can’t help but lean forward once she’s done to quickly kiss the tip of Robin’s nose where somehow, there was chocolate too. When Melinda pulls back, Robin blinks, clearly caught off guard, but grins. Her smile is infectious, and Melinda feels a similar one on her lips. 

When Robin has finished the last of her hot chocolate, complete with licking as far as she can into the cup, she turns to Melinda once more, this time asking,

“What’re we going to do now?”

A quick peek outside of the back door shows that it’s raining too hard to go outside which most likely means that the television signal would be out. “How about we read a book?”

That suggestion seems to be a winner, and Robin hops down from her chair, going to the bag of books while Melinda rinses the mugs out. Once the cups are in the dishwasher, Melinda follows Robin into the living room, sitting next to the girl on the couch. As soon as she sits and is comfortable, a book is being pushed into her hands. 

Much like the other books they read earlier, this one is again unfamiliar to Melinda. “Stuck?”

“Uh huh.” Robin nods as she snuggles up next to Melinda. There’s a throw on the back of the couch and Robin tugs it down before laying it across their laps. 

“Alright,” Melinda begins, opening the book. She clears her throat a little before reading, “It all began when Floyd got his kite stuck in a tree.”

Like most of the other books they read in the library, this one also makes Robin laugh. It’s about a boy whose kite gets stuck in a tree and no matter what he does or throws, it won’t budge. As the story goes on, each item thrown gets more exaggerated-“The kitchen sink to knock down his friend’s bicycle,”-which pulls more laughter from Robin.

But, when Melinda reaches the last line, the giggles have run out. Instead, Robin is quiet, watching and listening as Melinda reads, “That night, Floyd fell asleep, exhausted, though before he did, he could have sworn there was something he was forgetting.”

Robin is so quiet and still that Melinda thinks the girl might have fallen asleep. She gingerly closes the book, but then Robin whispers, 

"It gets harder to remember every day.”

Melinda pulls back a little to look down at her, confused. "What does?"

Shifting, Robin peers up at Melinda, eyes heavy with burden. "You."

"From the alternate timeline?"

Robin nods, taking her gaze from Melinda to the blanket across her lap. Her little fingers pluck at the soft fabric. "I don't want to forget."

Selfishly, Melinda doesn’t want her to either. If Robin forgot, then the remains of the life Melinda had but never lived would be gone. Her dreams would once again be an unattainable fantasy. She didn’t want Robin to forget her, or the future her, the one that Melinda would never again have the chance to be. 

Melinda’s eyes slide over to the sketchbook sitting on the coffee table.

"Have you tried drawing any memories?"

At this, it seems like a light bulb goes off in Robin's head.

She draws for the rest of the day and presents Melinda with the pictures, telling her about them. They range from ones with Melinda, Robin and the rest of the team that survived in the future, to just Melinda and Robin as they went about daily life in the Lighthouse. 

It’s strange, to see Robin drawing her memories instead of predictions, but more than welcome. Though, the perpetual gray walls and scowling faces on many of the stick figure irks Melinda. No child should grow up in those conditions, but Melinda can’t change anything more about the future they were in and can only listen to Robin as she talks. 

When it’s eight thirty and Melinda is sitting on the edge of Robin’s bed once again, Robin takes out a drawing. 

The larger of the stick figures is clearly Melinda, with straight dark hair and cradling a smaller, blonde haired stick figure in her lap, sitting on a bed. What looks like music notes are drawn around stick figure Melinda's open mouth.

"When I had a bad vision or couldn't sleep, you always sang to me," Robin tells her. She squeezes her eyes shut as if trying to find the memory. "Xiǎo bǎobǎo, kuài shuìjiào?"

"My baby, fall asleep quickly," Melinda murmurs, the words washing over her with a familiar wave of memories warm with affection. "My mother used to sing that to me.”

Robin nods as if she already knew that information, but she stands there for a minute, clearly contemplating something. Her bottom lip disappears as she chews on it and her eyes dart to the floor. Melinda is about to ask what’s wrong, but then Robin looks up and speaks. 

“Can you sing it to me now?”

This time, Melinda doesn’t have as much of an aversion to singing. For one, the song isn’t about a cat wearing shoes, and secondly, it’s one that Melinda holds near to her heart. Knowing that she sang it to Robin in the alternate timeline makes the song seem like a bridge into that nonexistent world, and to the mother she was. 

Melinda nods. “Go turn your nightlight on first.”

By the time Melinda is sitting comfortably in Robin’s bed, the light is on, and Robin is crawling up beside her. The child is snuggled up to her side before Melinda can move and even if she could move, Melinda doesn’t think she would want to. Instead, Melinda lifts her arm up so Robin can press closer to her. Robin settles into the crook of her arm, and when the girl looks up at her, Melinda feels a wave of deja vu wash over her as well as a sharp pang of hurt.

The last time she held Robin like this was when the girl, or woman, was dying, nearly eighty years into the future. Glancing down and seeing a decade’s younger Robin in her arms instead is like whiplash. For a terrifying second, Melinda sees a six-year-old Robin gasping for breath and bleeding out, but it’s irrational, and she blinks it away. 

Robin sinks into Melinda’s embrace though as if greeting an old friend. 

Melinda smiles, teasing, “Comfy?”

“Yeah.” Robin agrees before telling Melinda, “The bed there was so hard,” she whispers. “And it was always really loud, even after bedtime.”

“We’re not there anymore,” Melinda soothes, chasing away the slight distress Robin shows at the memories. Robin’s bed is soft, and the house is quiet, but that won’t change the memories the girl has. 

“It was really cold too.”

Melinda shifts so she can hold Robin closer and brings the covers up around them. “How’s that?”

Robin smiles and snuggles closer. “Better. Can you sing now?”

“Alright.”

Melinda hopes her singing chases away any remnants of sounds from the future Robin remembers and holds the child closer as she sleeps. 

                                                                                                                            ...

The chili lasts for two nights.

"Well, we're out of chili," Melinda says.

It’s her third-night taking care of Robin and Melinda is suddenly reeling on what the plan is for dinner. A quick survey of the fridge comes up with fruit, vegetables, and cheese. The pantry has more, but Melinda isn't going to cook. 

She closes the refrigerator door. "How about we go out? Do you have a favorite restaurant?"

They go to IHOP, Robin's choice.

The plate of pancakes piled high with whip cream and berries the child orders nearly covers her head when their waitress brings it to the table. Robin peeks over it with wide, excited eyes. Melinda finds herself laughing, especially when a fleck of whip cream gets on the tip of Robin's nose.

Next, Melinda's order of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast is placed before her. Her tea is refilled as well as Robin's apple juice. Their waitress leaves with the customary _ let me know if y'all need anything _ before they're left alone.

As usual, dinner is quiet between them, but this time it is accompanied by familiar noises of the restaurant. There are other families there with loud children, waitresses gathering empty plates, and chatter from couples. It's very civilian and new to Robin as she glances around.

Even though they were out in public yesterday at the library, it’s still obvious that Robin isn’t used to being out. She’s uncomfortable, keeping her eyes on her plate as she eats and startles slightly at loud noises. Melinda is tempted to ask for their orders to go but feels they both need to get out of the house, at least for one meal. 

It's a nice change of pace from sitting at the table with Phil in their house or around the crowded table at the base. Only, the familiar lull is broken and rather harshly. 

Suddenly, Robin drops her fork onto the table. The clatter is loud catching not only Melinda's attention, but other patrons around them.

"Robin?" Melinda places her utensils down. The child is stiff, her eyes blank as she stares at empty space. She's having a vision.

"They're taking her away," Robin says, frighteningly devoid of any emotion. "It's white all around. She's screaming, crying." As she continues, Robin begins to get worked up, her voice growing louder in the now quiet dining area.

"There's so much blood!" Robin gasps. She's terrified, unable to understand what she sees. "It's too much. It keeps coming and coming. She-"

Robin falls silent for a moment before her eyes widen and she begins to scream. "No!  _ No! _ Stop it! They're hurting her!” She sobs. “Why won't they stop?!"

At first, Melinda is helpless to intervene and only stares at Robin as her brain seemingly tries to come back online. Snapping out of her brief stun, Melinda gets up from her side of the booth, hurrying to Robin with her heart pounding. The child is crying with her hands clamped over her ears as if she can hear what she is seeing. Melinda's heart breaks. She crouches down, hands fluttering by Robin’s sides, unsure of what to do.

"Robin," Melinda calls over the girl’s cries. Robin begins to calm down, but her chest is still heaving. "Robin. Hey,” she says. “I'm here. Can you tell me who I am?"

"Mom."

Melinda nods. "That's right." She ignores the inquisitive and alarmed murmurs around them. "Can you tell me where we are?"

Robin blinks, focusing on Melinda, hiccupping as she does. She glances around and sees the looks they're receiving, and casts her gaze to the ground, ashamed.

"Hey," Melinda says, rubbing Robin's arm. "It's not your fault." Robin still doesn't look up at her. "Do you want to leave?"

Melinda receives a nod in return. She leans in closer to Robin and is relieved as the child doesn't back away. Gently, Melinda cups Robin’s cheek and thumbs away a few tears that remain. "They don't understand, that's all."

Instead of answering, Robin wraps her arms around Melinda's waist as she stands, hiding her face in Melinda's stomach. Keeping one hand on Robin's back, Melinda fishes out her wallet, tossing a few bills onto the table to cover their meal.

Their waitress comes over, looking very frazzled and confused. "Um, ma'am-"

"We're leaving," Melinda assures her as she gathers up their belongings. "I paid in cash. Your tip is included."

"Would you like your meals to go?"

"No." Melinda picks Robin up, walking away and past all the judgmental and curious stares. "Have a nice night."

The cool breeze is refreshing as Melinda steps out of the restaurant. Now that they're out she slows down but continues to walk to the car. Robin is clinging to her tightly, her face hidden in Melinda's neck which is now damp with tears. She lets go as Melinda opens the door to the backseat.

Melinda settles Robin in her booster, buckling the little girl in. As much as she wants to comfort Robin, she can practically feel the bound energy in the child.

"Do you need your drawing pad?"

Robin nods.

As she reaches for the bag, Melinda notices Robin's hand moving as if there were already a marker placed in it. As soon as Robin has the drawing pad laid across her lap and a marker between her fingers, she is scribbling onto the paper with a ferocity Melinda has never seen before.

It seems as if the rest of the world melts away as Robin draws.

She doesn't even notice Melinda still standing next to her, watching. If she does, she doesn't say anything. Robin is too busy translating what she sees to the paper. Her tiny brows are drawn, knuckles nearly white as they grip the marker. Melinda has to look away when Robin begins coloring with red, pressing down to get the darkest pigment.

She lingers for a moment more, resting her hand on the back of Robin's head before backing away and closing the car door.

Robin doesn’t speak for the rest of the night, not even during bath time. 

Melinda doesn’t try to get the child to talk either but fills the silence with her own voice, pointlessly talking about what they could do the next day. When she runs out of ideas, Melinda begins telling Robin stories of her and Phil, trying to get the child’s mind off her vision. 

If it works, Melinda won’t know, but the drawings Robin drew and finished by the time bedtime rolls around are torn from the sketchpad and shoved into the desk drawer. 

                                                                                                                            ...

The next night Melinda tries to cook dinner. 

For the past three days, every meal other than dinner was easy. 

Breakfast was bowls of cereal or oatmeal, and lunch was sandwiches or canned soup which Melinda could at least make without burning the kitchen down. It wasn’t exactly gourmet, or what Robin might be used to, but she child never complained and neither did Melinda who had eaten much worse than chicken noodle soup. 

Dinner was a whole other story. In Melinda's mind, dinner had expectations. She had to make a meal; she couldn't just throw a few sandwiches together though she knew Robin wouldn't care.

The only problem though, was that Melinda couldn't cook.

She wasn't being humble; she literally could not cook. Anything Melinda tried cooking either wound up burnt to a crisp, flavorless, inedible and in the rare occasions, a health hazard. That was fine in her mind. She could eat without cooking, but Robin needed a nice meal.

The pantry is stocked with every ingredient a chef would need, but Melinda's eyes hone in on the few boxes of instant macaroni.

Kids liked mac and cheese. Melinda has seen Daisy make it from the box, even eat it straight out of the pot. All she needed was water, butter, and the seasoning packet. It couldn't be  _ that  _ hard.

But she couldn't  _ just  _ make mac and cheese. Robin needed something else, preferably something that didn't come out of a box. Opening the freezer, Melinda sees frozen chicken tenders. Perfect. And the bag says ready in fifteen minutes.

Melinda has taken down aliens with her bare hands before amongst other insurmountable feats. She can do this.

Robin peeks around the steam, staring down uncertainly at the pot Melinda is stirring. "I don't think it's supposed to look like that."

The mac and cheese is in the pot, well on its way to boiling and the chicken tenders are in the oven. Robin decided to stick around to watch dinner be made and wisely hangs back a little from the oven. So far, Melinda thinks she has everything under control. 

"It's not done yet," Melinda defends. "The box says ten minutes. It's been four."

Eight minutes later Robin is clamping her hands over her ears as the smoke alarm shrills.

Melinda lets out a slew of curses as she lunges for the smoldering pot and moves it off the burner. What’s left of the macaroni and cheese is a burnt, black blob that quickly stinks up the kitchen. Fumbling around in one of the cabinets, Melinda grabs the lid to the pot, slamming it down over the top to stop any more smoke from escaping, but the damage is too late. 

“Mom!”

“It’s okay,” Melinda reassures Robin above the alarms. Robin is standing by the other side of the kitchen island, her hands still clamped over her ears and wide eyes watching Melinda. “It’s okay. I can fix it.”

Quickly, Melinda grabs a chair, pulling it under the smoke alarm in the kitchen. But, of course, it isn’t that simple.

“Don’t touch that pot,” Melinda instructs Robin as she hastily makes her way to the garage. It’s freezing, of course, and Melinda bites back colorful words as her socked feet come in contact with the cold cement. 

She finds the circuit breaker sooner than expected and flips off the power to all of the smoke alarms. That should be it, but Melinda still hears shrill beeping coming from inside the house. Before she goes back in, Melinda grabs a few screwdrivers from one of the bins. 

When she runs back into the kitchen, Robin is still there, 

Melinda gets on the chair, standing on the seat of it. Hurriedly, she tries to find the right screwdriver for the alarm. In the back of her mind, Melinda senses that something else is contributing to the smoke in the house aside from the mac and cheese remains, but she’s too focused to think about it. 

“Mom-”

Just as Melinda successfully turns the smoke alarm off, the timer on the oven begins beeping, filling the brief quiet that the silenced smoke detector allowed. 

“Don’t touch it!” Melinda hastily says when Robin inches toward the oven. “Let me get it.”

Too slowly for Melinda’s liking, she gets down from the chair, wincing as her still recovering leg is jostled. As soon as her feet are on the floor, she goes over to the oven and makes sure Robin is behind her before opening the door. 

She stands back as steam billows out of the oven in a greater quantity than what came from the mac and cheese. Instead of golden brown or even slightly toasty chicken tenders like Melinda expected, she’s greeted with black crisps laying on the oven grates. 

Beneath the chicken tenders is what remains of the pan they were on, dripping from the grate, melted, and pooling onto the bottom of the oven. 

Melinda can count on one hand the times in her life that she’s been at a loss for words, but now it seems like she’ll have to count on two. 

“Whoa!” Robin exclaims, peering over Melinda’s shoulder as she creeps closer. “That’s so cool!”

When Melinda can find her words, she utters, “It melted.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “ _ Cool _ .”

“I just ruined your mother’s pan,” Melinda protests. She stands up, leaving the oven door cracked open slightly to let the rest of the smoke out. “Not cool.” 

“It melted though!”

She pulls Robin back as the child leans forward to peer into the oven. “Wait until it cools off.”

Robin listens and steps back, tilting her chin up to look at Melinda. “I’m hungry.”

"Looks like we're going to have to order out." Melinda sighs, reaching for her phone. "Have anything in mind?"

When the pizza arrives, the house is somewhat aired out, but the pizza delivery employee’s nose still wrinkles when they walk up to the front door. Melinda pays and tips them before taking the pizza and cheesy bread that Robin insisted they get inside.

The two end up eating on the couches in the living room with enough napkins spread out between them to catch any crumbs or sauce. Melinda would hate to ruin anything else in the house. 

Eating in the living room is a nice change from the past few nights. It’s definitely more comfortable, but also more relaxing, especially for Robin who talks with Melinda over the pizza. 

Melinda ordered enough of it to have leftovers for the next day, including breakfast since she wasn't going to go near the stove again. She places the box of pizza into the fridge and the empty breadstick bag into the trash before turning to Robin.  

“We need to get you in the bath,” Melinda says. “I think you got more pizza sauce on you than in you.” 

It’s easier to sit Robin in the tub than try and get the sauce off her skin with a wipe or wet paper towel. Somehow no sauce got in Robin’s hair, so Melinda ties it up. Bathing Robin isn’t strange or anything new. Melinda had done the same for Daisy when the younger agent was sick or injured and couldn’t lift her arms. Melinda sits on the closed toilet, running a soapy washcloth over any remaining pizza sauce and watching while Robin scribbles on the tiled wall with bathtub crayons. 

She doesn't seem to be drawing a vision and instead is doodling rainbows, ice cream cones, and hearts; things kids should normally be drawing.

That morning after the night of Robin’s vision, the child was back to her former self, talking and following Melinda nearly everywhere. The day was spent with Robin showing Melinda how to make coffee filter butterflies, something the girl learned in art class a few weeks prior. It was fun albeit both their fingertips are stained with matching colors from the markers and food dye. Melinda enjoyed destroying something that was meant for her least favorite beverage and taped the butterflies on the sliding glass door. 

She hasn’t said anything more about what she saw, and Melinda won’t pry. 

"There weren't any baths there."

Melinda chuckles. "I can imagine. The place was filthy, at least the lower levels were."

"We had to take really fast showers," Robin continues. She then shivers, as if she can feel the harsh water from the Lighthouse pelting her skin. "It was so cold."

When Melinda dips the washcloth in the water once more, she checks the temperature. By now, the bathwater is cooled, so she quickly finishes rinsing Robin off and then lifts her from the bath onto the bathmat where she wraps the child in a towel. 

“There we go,” Melinda says. “Now I won’t be thinking that you’re a piece of pizza I missed and need to put in the fridge.”

“I’m not a piece of pizza!” Robin exclaims, fingers pulling at the edge of the towel that Melinda playfully pulls over her eyes. 

Once Robin is somewhat dry, Melinda scoops her up towel and all, kissing her cheeks loudly as she carries Robin into the bedroom. Robin’s giggles soon echo out as she squirms in Melinda’s arms, trying to get away. 

Melinda keeps her close though, now blowing raspberries onto Robin’s neck and cheeks that have the child squealing and wriggling. When they reach the bedroom, Melinda lays Robin on the bed, getting out a few last laughs.

“Alright,” Melinda says, standing up. “Pajamas, teeth, then bed, okay?”

Robins sits upright with the towel slipping back over her eyes. “Okay.”

While Robin changes into her pajamas, Melinda drains the bathwater. By the time she has Robin’s toothbrush ready, the girl comes into the bathroom and brushes her teeth, making faces at Melinda in the mirror as she does. 

Melinda chases Robin back into the bedroom, fingertips grasping at the child’s sides as Robin runs before her. Squealing, Robin races through the door, leaping onto her bed. “You can’t get me here!”

“I can’t?” Melinda asks, playfully lunging toward the bed and grinning at Robin’s shriek. She relents though because it’s bedtime and she shouldn’t be riling Robin up so soon before it. “Okay, I won’t.”

Robin snuggles under the covers as Melinda turns the night light on before walking over to the bed.

“Are you warm enough?”

Nodding, Robin scoots over in the bed to make room for Melinda. She cuddles close as soon as the woman is next to her. Even though not five minutes earlier Robin was full of energy with one verse of a lullaby, the child is nearly asleep, heavy eyes blinking. 

"Xiǎo bǎobǎo, kuài shuìjiào,” Melinda murmurs instead of singing. She caresses the girl’s cheek in a familiar motion. 

Robin stares up at Melinda, sleepy eyes intense almost as if they’re trying to memorize her, or even remember a similar time. Melinda smiles and leans to softly kiss Robin’s forehead as she subtly rocks her. 

Right before she falls asleep, Robin mumbles, barely audibly, "I like seeing you happy, mommy.”

“I like seeing you happy too,” Melinda whispers back. 

When she’s sure that Robin is asleep, Melinda carefully extracts herself from the bed and makes her way down the stairs. By now, the burnt smell is gone, so Melinda makes her round of closing the open windows and making sure they’re locked before checking the security system. 

Once she reaches the kitchen, Melinda takes out her phone and taking a deep breath, dials a number. It’s picked up in less than one ring. Melinda cuts off the person on the other end before they can say anything. 

"Phil, I almost burnt the kitchen down. She's going to starve."

                                                                                                                             ...

Melinda listens to the now familiar sound of markers against paper as she drives. With a glance in the rear view mirror, she confirms that Robin is still drawing. But unlike when the girl has a vision, this time Robin is relaxed. Her legs kick with an unknown rhythm, and the laces on her shoes catch the sunlight streaming in through the car windows. 

The sky is clear, any remaining clouds from the day before burned away by the bright early afternoon sun. It’s the perfect day to spend outdoors which Melinda and Robin did at the park almost immediately after breakfast. 

Part of Melinda is exhausted; chasing after a six-year-old on a playground is more strenuous than being in back to back fire fights. But the other part of her is wide awake and anticipating the rest of the day. 

When they pull up to the driveway, there is another car there, but it isn’t Polly’s. Instead, it’s a familiar shiny red convertible that Melinda feels her heart give a foolish skip upon seeing. 

From the backseat, Robin's voice is a mere whisper. "Phillip J Coulson."

“Yeah he’s here,” Melinda says. She glances into the rearview mirror to try and catch Robin’s eyes, but when the child is solely focused on the house, Melinda turns around in her seat. “Is that okay?”

Robin nods, gaze darting from the house to Melinda, then back again. “He’s nice.”

“He is,” she agrees. “Ready to go in?”

Melinda doesn’t receive an answer immediately. Robin is watching the house, chewing on her bottom lip. Melinda stays quiet, letting the child work through whatever she’s feeling or thinking. 

After a few minutes, Robin nods. 

As soon as Melinda steps inside of the house, she’s hit with a familiar aroma of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Her stomach instantly rumbles. As if he heard the sound, Phil turns around from where he's standing at the stove. 

“Hey!” he greets, giving Melinda a smile that she’s missed for the past few days. Phil’s eyes dart behind her for the slightest second before back to her. “I was just making lunch.”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup?” Melinda asks even though she knows the answer.

“Secret ingredient included.” 

Tiny hands grip Melinda’s thighs as Robin hides behind her. The girl peeks out at Phil before pushing her face back against Melinda’s side. Even though Robin knows who Phil is, even met him a few times, she’s still shy. 

“Hi Robin,” Phil greets softly, eyes warming behind his glasses. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hi,” Robin mumbles, moving away from hiding completely behind Melinda. She still stays close though and latches onto Melinda’s hand when the woman moves it to her. 

“Are you hungry? I’ve been making lunch for you and Melinda.”

She only nods and squeezes Melinda’s hand. 

“Why don’t you go change into some clean clothes?” Melinda asks. “I’ll be right here with Phil.”

With one last glance to Phil, Robin darts past them and down the hallway to her room. Neither Phil or Melinda move until they hear a door shut. Then, the next thing Melinda knows is that Phil’s arms are around her and his lips are on hers. 

When they part, Melinda kisses the corner of his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Phil greets before his lips are on Melinda’s neck, pressing light kisses.  

Melinda pushes against his chest, laughing, “Phil. It’s been three days.”

“Mm,” he murmurs against her neck. “Three days too long. I’ve been spoiled having you around all the time.”

At this, Melinda softens and hugs him closer to her. They have been away from each other for longer, but the three days seemed to surpass any former amount. “I am very glad to see you.”

Phil chuckles. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

They stand there holding each other for a little while longer until Phil pulls away with a kiss to Melinda’s cheek. Though they may not be hugging, they are still in each other’s personal space, leaned up against the counter.

"I brought a new sheet tray. How exactly did you manage to melt the  _ tray _ ?"

"Don't ask," Melinda grumbles. She knows he'll never let her live it down.

“Almost burning the kitchen down seems like a bit of a stretch,” Phil says, looking around the kitchen. “At least the microwave is in one piece this time.”

“I’ll need you to reconnect one of the smoke detectors.”

He snorts. “I’m surprised you didn't just shoot them.”

“I already destroyed one of Polly’s pan things,” Melinda says. “We don’t need to add smoke detectors to that list.” 

“You mean sheet trays?”

“Whatever.”

Phil laughs, leaning back to look at Melinda. “Suburban style suits you. I- is that my sweater?”

Robin decides to enter the kitchen then, now dressed in clean clothes and socks that have bunny ears on the toes. Melinda can't help but like she’s gotten caught when Robin stares at her and Phil. 

Melinda reluctantly pulls away from Phil. “You hungry?” 

Lunch is served hot and at the kitchen table. Robin is quiet as they eat, casting curious glances to Phil during the meal. 

“Do you like it?” Melinda asks her. 

Robin nods, munching on one triangle of grilled cheese. 

“It’s one of my specialties,” Phil says.

“You used to make this for me back in the Academy.” 

Phil laughs. “Yeah, but back then I used canned soup and plastic covered cheese slices.” 

“It was still good.” 

After lunch is eaten and leftovers are put away, Phil turns to Robin who is still watching him curiously. 

“Hey, Robin,” Phil begins. “Melinda and I were thinking about making some cookies. Would you like to help?”

At the prospect of cookies, Robin’s eyes light up, but they dart to Melinda. 

“Don’t worry,” Phil says. “They’ll be edible.” 

Melinda rolls her eyes. 

“What kind of cookies would you like to make, Robin?”

“Um,” Robin begins but thinks and chews on her lip for a second. “Chocolate chip?”

“Excellent choice,” Phil says. “I have the perfect recipe.”

Melinda watches closely as the two begin to make cookies. Robin is adorable in an apron too big for her tiny frame and standing on a stool so she can see over the counter. She helps to measure out the ingredients and sneaks a few chocolate chips when Phil isn’t looking. 

Somehow Phil manages to get Robin warmed up to him even before the cookies are in the oven. He does so by telling her stories about Melinda, ones that have giggles slipping from Robin’s lips.

“You can’t eat that,” Robin says when Melinda dips a spoon into the cookie dough batter. “Mom says it’ll make you sick.”

“It’s never happened to be before,” Melinda defends as she eats the dough. “And I think that would only happen if I ate more than just a spoonful.” 

“Still,” Phil says. “We’ll eat it after it’s baked.”

“Don’t act like I haven’t caught you eating raw dough before.”

Now, Robin looks intrigued and stares down at the bowl of cookie dough before her in curiosity. Melinda grabs a spoon from the drawer and dips it into the batter before handing it to Robin. “Try it.” 

Robin does, eating the raw dough off the spoon. Her brows furrow for a second before her face lights up. 

“It’s good, right?” Melinda asks. 

Robin nods, busy with licking any remaining dough off her spoon. “Really good.” 

“Don’t eat any more, please,” Phil says as he begins to form balls with the dough. “We need to get these into the oven.” 

Reluctantly, Robin hands the spoon to Melinda and focuses on rolling balls of dough. 

The cookies take longer than expected, of course, and by the time they’re done, it’s late into the afternoon, almost dinner time. But, the cookies are delicious, and they each eat at least three. 

“You can have one cookie now and then more after dinner,” Melinda tells Robin who pouts. “ _ One _ .”

She sighs. “Fine.” 

Robin takes her cookie and a napkin to the couch while Phil turns to Melinda, nearly panicking. “I don’t know what to make,” he says. “I- What do kids eat?”

They end up having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. 

"This is good, Phil."

"Yeah," Robin agrees as she twirls more pasta onto her fork. "Way better than Mom's."

“Oh yeah?” Phil asks teasingly. “Should I tell Polly that when she gets back?”

Robin laughs. “No!”

Dinner passes without incident and soon, Phil is clearing the table and Robin is hopping off her chair. 

“You have sauce all over you,” Melinda mutters, breathing out a soft laugh. “Come here.” 

Phil hands her a wet paper towel, and Melinda beckons Robin to her, wiping off the child’s mouth and the area around it. Robin scrunches up her nose and tries to turn her head away, but Melinda holds her in place with a hand on her upper arm. She stays still long enough for Melinda to properly clean her face and when her face is clear, Melinda tickles Robin’s side, grinning as the child squeals. 

It’s about an hour before Robin’s bedtime, so Melinda suggests, “Why don’t we show Phil how to play one of your board games?”

They follow Robin as the girl races into the living room. She crouches before the shelf holding various bright colored boxes before picking one out.

“Candyland?” Phil asks, squinting at the box as Robin sets it on the coffee table. “I don’t think I’ve ever played this.”

Robin’s mouth drops open in shock. “Really?” she asks. “ _ Ever? _ ”

Phil wasn't exaggerating. Melinda knew he had little to no knowledge about any board games that weren’t trivia or superhero centered. If he joined them for game night back when Trip was alive, and their family was almost whole, he would be familiar with the game. But, at that time being Director took priority over playing board games. 

“Nope.” Phil shakes his head. “Never played it.”

With that, Robin takes it upon herself to teach Phil how to play. 

It’s endearing to see the two interact. Phil listens as Robin explains the rules but teasingly messes them up on occasion just to hear the girl giggle. Robin is the red player, Melinda yellow, and Phil blue. The game begins, and with each card drawn, their players either move forward or back. 

When the game is nearly done, and Robin’s head bobs for the third time in the span of five minutes, Melinda stands from the couch. 

“It’s bath and then bed time,” she says, picking up Robin. “Say goodnight.”

“Night Phil,” Robin yawns, turning her face against Melinda's neck. “Thanks for the cookies.”

Phil chuckles. “You’re welcome. Goodnight, Robin.”

From over Melinda’s shoulder. Robin gives him a tired wave that Phil returns. 

In half an hour, Melinda is walking back down the stairs with a few new water splotches on her shirt. Phil glances over the back of the couch, lifting an arm so Melinda can sit beside him and press into his side. 

“She’s asleep,” she tells Phil and sits with a huff. “I’m exhausted.” 

He laughs and kisses her temple as she sits. “I bet. Kids never stop going.”

“Yeah,” Melinda agrees. She groans slightly as she shifts on the couch, feeling her muscles stretch and burn. “Robin wanted to play tag when we were at the park.” 

“Is your leg okay?” Phil asks. Before Melinda can answer, he sits up, moving to get off the couch. “Do you need a heat pack? I brought one.”

She tugs him back to her. “It’s okay. My leg’s fine,” Melinda says. “But, it could use a massage.”

Phil still doesn’t look too convinced but moves one palm to Melinda’s thigh as she lifts it over his lap. “Is that the real reason why you called me?”

“You finally guessed it,” Melinda teases back dryly. A soft moan slips from her lips as Phil’s hand kneads her leg. The muscles around her injury begin to loosen with each press and pull of the heel of his hand. “Daisy was with you at the house?”

“Yeah, she’s back at the base now, though. She left the same time I did, didn't want to stay alone.” 

“Did you turn the security system on?”

Phil sighs. “That was one time. And yes.”

“The one time let a raccoon into the garage where it nearly ate my mother’s photo album,” Melinda grumbles. “How would you like to explain that to her?”

Phil shudders. “I wouldn’t.” He massages Melinda’s leg more before commenting, “I’m surprised you both have lasted this long.”

“I can at least make sandwiches.”

“Please don’t tell me Robin has been living off peanut butter sandwiches for the past three days.”

"We had chili the first two nights,” Melinda tells him. “Polly made it right before she left."

"Was it better than mine?"

"Almost."

The two sit in companionable silence, and as they do, Melinda feels herself begin to drift off. Phil’s heartbeat is strong beneath her cheek, and his arms around her are warm. His hand has stopped moving on her thigh and instead rests there. She’s missed being in his embrace for the past few days, and most of all missed his company. 

“I’ve missed you,” Phil whispers, lips pressed to her hair. “The house isn’t the same with you. Neither is the bed.”

"I've been sleeping in Robin's bed," Melinda warns him. "She wants me to stay every night."

"Does she have nightmares?"

Melinda shakes her head. "We shared a bed in the Lighthouse."

Phil falls silent. He knows he wasn't there with the team in the alternate timeline.  _ He  _ had been the one to take the serum instead of Daisy, but it hadn’t done any good. 

"Guess this means no morning sex?"

Melinda shoots him a look. "This means no sex at all."

Phil groans.

                                                                                                                             ...

Polly’s home has the perfect spot to set up a yoga mat. It’s right in the living room near the back of the house in a large patch of morning sun that shines through the big window and illuminates the wood floor. 

The lime green of the mat is somewhat garish against the dark wood floors, but Melinda has done her taichi under worse conditions before. 

It’s easy to fall into the familiar rhythm. Melinda flows from one position to the next. The movements calm her worries and thoughts 

"You never did that."

Melinda opens her eyes and looks over her shoulder to the hallway. Robin is there, still in pajamas and with mussed hair. Without breaking position, Melinda asks, "I didn't?"

Robin shakes her head. "No time."

That was understandable. From the brief time, Melinda was at the Lighthouse, life never stopped. 

They were woken up early by an alarm on the floors, and they had to be in the main area by a certain time or else they wouldn't eat. Time was a mere illusion in the Lighthouse. Since they were in space, the sun was always bright, and the sky was always black, so there was no telling what time of day it was. Time was only divided by being herded place to place, working, meals, and going to bed.

"Would you like to learn how?"

With an eagerness that Melinda hasn’t seen in Robin before, the child nods and almost races over to her. 

Stepping back, Melinda guides Robin onto the mat, feeling her throat suddenly and unexpectedly grow tight at the sight of a pair of tiny feet between hers. But, Melinda pushes back similar dreams she had from years ago and focuses on leading Robin into the first position her own mother taught her. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Melinda says when her routine is over, and the sun is higher in the sky. Before Robin can protest, she adds, “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Robin agrees. 

“Why don’t you watch a show while I go change?” Melinda asks. She picks the remote up and finds the kid’s pony show Polly mentioned Robin liked and makes sure the child is settled on the couch and immersed in the program before going upstairs. 

Phil is still sleeping when she enters the guest bedroom, but when the door opens, he stirs. As she walks by the bed to the connected bathroom, Melinda yanks the covers off of him, trying not to smile as his indignant gasp.

"Come on, get up. We want breakfast."

Phil pouts. "You only want me for my cooking."

Melinda doesn't agree, but then again she doesn’t deny it as she shuts the bathroom door and starts a shower. 

When she returns downstairs freshly showered and in a sweatshirt that may have been Phil’s from years prior, Melinda is met with the sound of high pitched giggles and a humorous, exaggerated voice.  

Phil is flipping pancakes at the stove and pulling all the tricks for Robin who is sitting at the kitchen island watching him with wide eyes. The child is practically on the edge of her seat, following the movements of Phil’s arm as he jerks the pan he’s holding. From the pan comes a pancake, golden brown on one side. It’s airborne for only a second before landing back into the pan.

“Yay!” Robin cheers. 

Phil bows and Robin giggles. When he stands, he catches sight of Melinda. “Oh hey! We’re having pancakes.”

“With blueberries!”

Melinda takes a seat next to Robin and watches Phil flip more pancakes. “Sounds delicious.” 

After breakfast is finished and the dishes are cleared and put away, Robin is tugging both Phil and Melinda over to the living room where she leads them to the couch. It’s Saturday morning, and apparently, her favorite show is on. 

Melinda doesn’t enjoy the show at all, but she enjoys seeing how happy it makes Robin and listens aptly as the child explains the different ponies to her. Though, about halfway through the second episode, Phil’s phone rings.

He quickly grabs it from the coffee table, curiously looking at the screen. While they were able to be reached, Phil and Melinda were still technically retired. But, of course, there were exceptions.

“It’s Daisy,” Phil tells her. His brow wrinkles in worry, and he glances at Melinda before standing and leaving the couch to take the call.

“Daisy?” Phil’s voice is cut off by the sliding glass door closing. Through the glass and butterflies, Melinda watches his shoulders relax after a few seconds and lets go of the concern she had. She turns her attention back to the television though nothing the show does distracts her from thinking about why Daisy is calling. 

At one point in the episode, one of the ponies starts crying. Robin seems troubled by this and turns to Melinda. 

"You were always really sad."

"Sad?"

Robin nods. "You lost Phil and Daisy."

"You're right," Melinda agrees, ignoring the painful twist in her heart at Robin's words. She had been  _ so  _ close to losing them. "That would make me very sad."

"You cried when you thought I was asleep."

Melinda blinks back the tears that cloud her vision. Just the very thought of losing Phil or Daisy is terrifying but both of them? She wouldn't know what to do, how to survive that.

"Sometimes you would say their names when you were sleeping."

"I had you," Melinda says. She brushes back Robin's hair, causing the little girl to tilt her face up to her. Melinda smiles. " You kept me going. I had to protect you."

"You always did," Robin agrees. "Even when Fitz yelled at me and the Kree came."

“That must have been scary.”

Robin nods. “But you protected me.”

“I always will.”

Robin suddenly looks away from her, stating, "You have Daisy."

"That's different," Melinda tells her. "Daisy isn't little like you. She doesn't need me as much."

"Yes, she does," Robin insists. "You all need each other."

“You’re right,” Melinda says. “But I need you too.” 

At this, Robin turns back to Melinda, shocked at her words. It breaks Melinda’s heart that Robin thinks she isn’t needed anymore just because she has already done so much. 

Melinda nods. “You have a special place in my heart that no one else can fill.” 

Robin doesn’t seem entirely convinced and more like she wants to believe as she asks, “Really?”

“Really.” 

With that, the conversation is over. Phil walks back in, phone off and joins them as they watch the rest of the episode. 

When Melinda walks down the stairs hours later, and after putting Robin to bed, Phil stands from the couch. “I have something for you.”

“Is it another baking sheet?”

Phil’s laugh lingers even as he leaves the room. “No, you’ll enjoy this much more.”

When Phil returns to the kitchen, it’s with a smirk on his lips and a bottle of scotch in his hands.

“Thank god,” Melinda tries not to groan. “Polly only has wine.”

“You’ve never been a fan,” Phil chuckles as he pours the glasses Melinda sets out. 

“If I’m going to drink I want something strong.” 

They go into the living room, Phil carrying the half-full glasses and Melinda the bottle of alcohol. She sets it on the coffee table, propping her feet up right after. The first sip of scotch has Melinda sinking back into the couch with a sigh. She’s been needing a drink since the first night she stayed here and especially after Robin’s vision.

Phil’s arm rests on the tops of her shoulders and Melinda leans into him, basking in the familiarity of drinking together. She takes a few drinks before asking Phil, “What did Daisy call about?”

“She needed advice with the specs of the next leave. Apparently, Mack was out. Why?” he asks. “Did Robin say something?” 

“She-” Melinda begins. Robin didn’t say it directly, but it isn’t hard to figure out why the child was suddenly so insecure. “I think she’s afraid of Daisy replacing her.”

“What?” Phil asks as if he can’t believe it. “You love them both.”

“That’s what I told her,” Melinda says. She pauses, looking down at her glass. “I didn’t have either of you in the alternate timeline. I don’t know how I could keep going.”

“But you did,” Phil insists. “You survived, and you raised Robin. Without you taking care of her, that future would have come real.” 

"Mommy?"

In an instant, Melinda’s attention is drawn away from Phil and to the little voice a few feet away. When she turns, Robin is peering around the corner, rubbing her eyes sleepily. 

"Yeah, baby?" Melinda asks. Shifting from Phil’s side, Melinda sets her glass down and gets up off the couch. Robin doesn't move from where she stands and worry flares up in Melinda. She walks closer, unflinching at the shadows her figure casts along the walls. 

“Are you okay?” Melinda asks. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Robin shakes her head, sucking on the tip of a finger. As Melinda nears, the child suddenly reaches up her arms. Melinda picks Robin up, the child resting her head tiredly on her shoulder. 

“I missed you.”

Melinda’s heart nearly melts. She kisses Robin’s temple and gently rocks the child in her arms, savoring the warm, sweet weight against her. “I’m here now,” she says. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

With one last glance to Phil, Melinda carries Robin to her bedroom. At first, it’s difficult to see with just the nightlight on, but Melinda maneuvers them until she’s sitting on Robin’s bed. The child is somewhat reluctant to let go but does and crawls under the covers as Melinda lays next to her. 

Though Robin is clearly tired, she curls up against Melinda, blinking up at the woman. 

“I’ll be right here,” Melinda tells her, kissing Robin’s forehead. “Go to sleep.” 

“Love you, Mommy.”

Even though Robin is already asleep by the time Melinda brings up the courage to whisper back, “I love you too, Robin,” the child’s lips turn up into a smile. 

                                                                                                                            ...

“Whoa whoa!” Phil exclaims before laughing. “Slow down!”

“Come on!” Robin says, nearly yanking on his hand. “The swings will be full soon!”

“We’re coming,” Melinda says. She looks ahead to the swings, and sure enough, they’re quickly filling up with children and parents. “Why don’t you go ahead? We’ll be right behind you.” 

Robin takes off, leaving Phil and Melinda standing at the car still. The swings aren’t far away at all, but Melinda keeps her eye on Robin, leaning against the car as she watches the child reach the swings.  

They’re at the park again. Robin asked to go even before breakfast was ready, eager to show Phil the park and to run around. The weather is beautiful again, a clear yet cold sunny day. 

“Alright.” Phil closes the car door and holds out his hand toward Melinda. “Ready to get a workout?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Melinda says, but really, she’s nervous. Phil picks up on it and turns to her.

“Hey. You okay?”

“The last time we went out-” Melinda begins but falters. “She had a vision. Everyone was staring at her. She was so embarrassed.”

“Mel,” Phil says gently. He squeezes her hand. “It’s not your fault. She can’t control when they happen.”

Melinda nods. “I know. I just don’t want her to feel ashamed about her gift.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Phil assures her. A yell catches his attention. He sees Robin, digging her feet into the rubber mulch beneath the swing impatiently as she watches them. “We better get going.” 

After the swings, following Robin around the children’s play gym, and a short game of soccer, it’s time for lunch. Melinda and Robin go into the park bathroom to wash their hands while Phil heads back to the car. By the time they’re out, he’s back and sitting on a blanket spread out on the grass with the insulated cooler bag beside him. 

Lunch is homemade subs with vegetables, chips, fruit, and of course some remaining cookies. Robin reluctantly eats her sandwich and a few vegetables at Melinda’s insistence. 

“Better than peanut butter, huh?”

Melinda rolls her eyes. “I made ham and cheese, too.”

“His sandwiches are still better,” Robin giggles. The spark of amusement in her eyes is only present for a moment before it’s replaced with a familiar blankness. 

Suddenly, the sandwich seems to lose all flavor as Melinda realizes Robin is having a vision. She braces herself for a repeat of the first one, anticipating for Robin to scream or cry but instead, the girl is quiet as she watches the scene play out before her. 

“Robin?” Phil prompts gently. He doesn’t move to touch her but does lean closer when the child is unresponsive. 

“She’s in the hallway,” Robin begins. “Walking really slow. It’s dark and quiet.”

“Who, Robin?” Phil asks. “Who’s in the hallway?”

“Mom.”

Melinda’s heart nearly stops. 

Phil glances back to Melinda before he asks, “Polly?”

Instead of answering, Robin continues to talk, telling them what she sees. 

“She opens the door and goes inside. It’s small. There’s-” Robin looks confused for a moment before she gasps. “It’s you.”

“It’s Phil?” Melinda asks. 

“He’s sleeping,” Robin says. “Mom grabs his hand and-” Once again Robin breaks off. This time, Melinda is sure that whatever Robin sees is about to take a turn for the worse and the girl will grow upset, but instead, Robin begins laughing. 

Neither Phil or Melinda know what to do.

“Mom put whip cream on your hand!” Robin exclaims, barely able to get her words out with how hard she’s laughing. “Then she touched your nose, and you hit yourself in the face!”

Instantly, Melinda knows what Robin is seeing and laughs. Phil watches them, clearly confused. “What’s happening?”

“Mom pranked you!” Robin tells him. Her eyes are clear and focused as she looks at Phil, still giggling. “You got whip cream all on your face!”

“She saw us back in the Academy,” Melinda says to Phil, holding back more laughter at his clueless expression. “Remember that morning I put whip cream in your hand before waking you up?”

It takes a moment for Phil to remember, but when he does, he laughs as well. “That must be your favorite prank.” 

“It’s one of them.” 

After Robin finally stops giggling and badgering Phil and Melinda for more stories about the pranks, Phil asks her, 

“Did you want to go play some more?”

Eagerly, Robin nods and is practically bouncing in place by the time Phil packs the food away and stands up. 

The cold has Melinda’s leg aching. “You two can go. I’ll stay here and watch.”

Wordlessly, Phil reaches into the other bag and pulls out an insulated container, handing it to Melinda. “I thought you might need it.” 

The warmth of the container seeps into Melinda’s hand. “Thank you.”

Melinda stretches out on the blanket with the heat pack on her aching leg, watching as Phil and Robin run around. Robin instigates a game of tag and nearly runs circles around Phil. He chases her, letting her run out of his reach before catching up. Every time he ‘tags’ her, Phil scoops Robin up and swings her around, delighting in the child’s shrieked laughter. 

When the sun begins to get covered up by clouds and the temperature drops, Melinda beckons them back. By now, Robin and Phil are both looking tired, worn out from running around. They begin to pack up the blanket and cooler and make their way back to the car. As Phil is putting their belongs in the trunk, Melinda follows Robin’s gaze over to a quaint ice cream shop thoughtfully located right across the street from the park. 

“Would you like some ice cream?”

Once everything is in the trunk, Phil closes it and takes Robin’s other hand as the three walk through the parking lot and across the street. 

The shop is quaint and quiet, the perfect host for the three. They sit in a booth with their ice creams. Melinda chose salted caramel, Phil ordered raspberry truffle, and Robin got cookie dough as well as a tower of whip cream and of course colorful sprinkles. 

Melinda has an inkling thought of why exactly Robin got whip cream and true to her suspicion, as they eat their ice cream, Robin scoops a fingerful of whip cream up and dabs it onto Phil’s nose before he can react. 

Once Melinda laughs, Robin joins in and Phil when Phil gets over his shock, he too begins laughing. Robin only stops giggling when there’s a cold sensation on the tip of her nose. She turns to Phil, mouth dropped open in surprise before giggling again. 

After dinner, Robin wants to watch a movie, so they do. But, not even halfway through the movie, Robin is fast asleep, snuggled on the couch between Phil and Melinda. 

Glancing down at Robin, Melinda realizes she never wants the day to end but stopping time isn’t in her power. Instead, she only holds Robin closer and counts each breath the child breathes as she sleeps, trying to keep her mind off the coming day. 

                                                                                                                             …

By the time noon rolls around the next day, Robin’s nose is nearly plastered to the front window. Any moment Polly is due to arrive back, and Robin has been watching all morning for her mother’s car. 

“What time is it now?”

Melinda glances at the clock. “Eleven fifty-five.” 

“Five more minutes,” Robin mumbles, watching her breath momentarily fog up the window. 

“She’ll be here soon,” Melinda says. Getting up from the kitchen chair, she walks over to Robin, rubbing the girl’s back. Robin glances at her for a second before turning back to the window. As she does, a car pulls into the driveway and Robin is up off the chair in seconds. 

As the door opens, Robin exclaims, “Mommy!”

“Robin!” Polly greets with just as much enthusiasm. The woman has just enough time to set down her bags and purse before Robin nearly launches into her arms. 

Melinda lingers back, watching as the two are reunited. Instead of her heart hurting or jealousy infringing on her emotions, Melinda is calm, content even. 

Though she was Robin’s mother in the alternate timeline, Melinda knows she could never replace Polly, and she would never want to. The bond Robin and Polly have is clear and stronger than before. Melinda remembers Polly mentioning at one point last year that she didn't think Robin even recognized her as her mother, but clearly, that isn’t the case anymore. 

“How are you?” Polly asks. She sets Robin down but follows, crouching before the child and cupping her cheek. “I missed you.”

“Good,” Robin says. “I missed you too.” 

There’s a presence behind Melinda as Phil approaches and briefly settles his hand on her shoulder. “Welcome back.” 

“Agent Coulson,” Polly stammers, clearly caught off guard. She stands, keeping one hand on Robin’s shoulders but smooths down the wrinkles in her blouse. “Hi.”

“Phil is fine.” 

“I asked him to come after a few days,” Melinda tells Polly. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course, I just wasn’t expecting to see you,” Polly says. She must have a million questions, but holds them back to say, “It’s very good to see you, though.”

Phil smiles. “It’s nice to see you again as well. How was your trip?”

Polly sighs and now Melinda can see bags under her eyes and a tiredness on her shoulders that was masked by the joy of being home. “It was very busy, I’m sorry I didn’t call to check in, but I could hardly catch a breath and the different time zones completely threw me off.” 

“It’s alright,” Melinda assures her. “We faired well.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “But mom almost burnt the kitchen down.”

Polly’s head snaps over to look at the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” Melinda assures her, cutting her eyes over to Robin who only giggles. “There was a slight mishap with some mac and cheese. And you have a new baking sheet now.” 

Polly’s mouth opens, but she closes it and shakes her head. “I won’t ask.” She begins to take her heavy coat off and glances at Phil and Melinda. “Would you like to stay for some coffee?” she asks, almost hopefully. “Tea?”

“We would love to, but we better get going,” Phil says. “The team is going on another search tomorrow, and we’d like to spend some time with them before they do.” 

“Oh of course.” Polly nods. “Thank you so much for taking care of her for me.”

“It was no problem,” Melinda says. “We all had a great time.” 

At this, Polly looks relieved, as if she expected Melinda to tell her any negative news. At one point, Melinda knows she’ll have to tell Polly about Robin’s first vision and the newly added drawings in the desk drawer, but for now, she remains quiet. 

“I’m glad.” She glances down at Robin. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Age- Melinda and Phil?”

Robin was already inching over to Melinda before Polly spoke, but now, the child nearly throws herself against Melinda. 

Melinda holds Robin who hugs her tightly around the waist but pulls back and hops, clearly wanting to be picked up. Slightly confused, Melinda lifts Robin up. Wrapping her arms around Melinda’s neck and legs around her waist, Robin buries her face in Melinda’s shoulder. 

"What's with the big hug?" Melinda asks. She isn't complaining at all and is instead more curious. While Robin hugged, she never hugged like this.

"We won't see each other for a while," Robin mumbles.

Melinda hugs Robin closer to her, smoothing back the girl’s hair. While she doesn’t know how long ‘a while’ is exactly, Melinda does know that she’ll see Robin again and that puts her at ease. 

“You and your mom know I’m only a call away,” Melinda tells Robin. “It’ll be okay.”

Robin nods against her neck and squeezes Melinda tightly, as if it could be a last hug and whispers, “I love you, Mommy.”

Unexpected tears prick at the corners of Melinda’s eyes at the words, but she blinks them back. “I love you too, Robin.” 

Robin then turns to Phil. “Bye, Phil,” she says. “Thanks for making cookies with me.” 

“You’re very welcome,” Phil tells her. “You’re a great sous chef, Robin.” 

That makes Robin smile, and she hides it against Melinda before wriggling. Melinda sets her down. Suddenly, Robin leaves the room.

Melinda's face falls.

"Don't worry," Polly reassures her, glancing in the direction Robin disappeared to. "She'll be back."

No sooner do the words leave Polly's mouth, Robin is back, running straight to Melinda. Crouching down, Melinda expects to receive an armful of the girl, but instead, Robin stops just in front of her. In her hands is a stack of papers which she holds out to Melinda expectantly.

Melinda takes them, flipping through a few. The papers are all drawings of Robin’s memories of them in the Lighthouse, recurring familiar stick figures with black and blonde hair.

"I thought you wanted to keep these to remember?" Melinda asks, glancing up at the child. 

"I can always redraw them," Robin says. She pushes the papers further into Melinda's hands. "You don't have them in your head like I do."

Reaching out, Melinda cups Robin’s cheek, and smiles. "Thank you, Robin."

With that, Robin dives back into Melinda’s arms, pressing as close to Melinda as she can. Melinda holds her just as tight, mourning the mother she was and will never be again, but rejoicing in the fact that she still gets to be a part of Robin’s life and still be called ‘mom.’ 

Against Melinda’s chest, Robin murmurs, "You'll always be my mom, even if I forget."

Melinda nods, swallowing thickly and musters a smile. “I always will.” 

Eventually, Robin pulls away, and they say their goodbyes once again to both Polly and Robin before leaving the house. It’s a cool day so Lola’s top is up and Melinda wouldn’t want the papers she still holds to fly away. 

She thumbs through them as Phil drives, seeing the memories that Robin is so desperately trying to hold onto. They’re all different, and Melinda will try to piece them together later, but for now, she stares down at the blonde haired and black haired stick figures holding hands. 

Phil glances over to Melinda. “Makes me wonder if we should have one of our own.” 

Biological children are out of the question, but adopting is always a possibility. But Melinda says, “We already have one.” 

“And she’s been missing you,” Phil tells her. “She kept asking how you were doing when she called.”

“I’ve missed her too.” Melinda falls quiet for a while before finally saying, “I think our lives are already complete.” 

“I think so too.” 

At the same time, they reach for each other’s hands. Phil squeezes Melinda’s hand once it’s in his, lifting it up to press his lips to her fingertips. She smiles, feeling as if her heart would burst from the love she feels for him and keeps their hands entwined for the rest of the long ride. 

When they arrive home, and after receiving hugs and questions from Daisy, Melinda puts one of Robin’s drawings on the fridge. She walks away from the smiling stick figure drawing with a lighter heart and to a call of  _ mom?  _ from the living room.   


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :)


End file.
